


Stark Men Are Made of Iron

by betheflame



Series: Shorts & Drabbles 2019 [21]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Michelle Jones, BAMF Pepper Potts, Cancer, M/M, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Sick Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-18 03:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21770707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/betheflame/pseuds/betheflame
Summary: “Dad, what’s your face doing?”“Peter, the doctors have told us over and over again that this surgery has a 95% chance of getting all the cancer. This talk of ‘when you’re gone’... it’s just not necessary,” Tony stroked his son’s hair and smiled at him. “What do we always say about Stark men?”“That we’re made of iron,” Peter replied dutifully. “But, what if cancer corrodes iron?”His voice was small on that last question and Peter felt tears rush to his eyes.No, he berated himself.Dad doesn’t need my tears.He was shocked to look up into Tony’s eyes and see a matching set of those salty messengers. “Well, then I’ll just invent the best fucking cleaning product on the planet and we’ll show that corrosion who’s boss.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Shorts & Drabbles 2019 [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432378
Comments: 20
Kudos: 288
Collections: Irondad Fic Exchange 2019





	Stark Men Are Made of Iron

**Author's Note:**

> This one is for seekrest, who asked for a Peter-centric sick fic. I went pretty angsty with this, so I hope it passes muster! 
> 
> Thanks to Robin for organizing a really fun event for the holidays!

“Dad,” Peter croaked from the bed.

“What, buddy?” Tony replied, shifting himself from the couch in the hospital room over to his son’s bed.

“I want you to promise me something.”

“Of course, Petey Pie.”

“Well, first,” the sixteen-year-old said, “I want you to promise to stop using that nickname like I’ve asked fourteen million times.”

“Sorry, no can do,” Tony grinned. “Dad privilege and all that. Upon the four hundredth time you vomited on me, you lost the rights to dictate nicknames. Next?”

Peter rolled his eyes. His dad was so extra sometimes. “I want you to promise me you’ll ask Auntie Pep out when I’m gone.”

He watched his dad’s face blanche a bit - not positive it was from the fact that he talked about death. _But he loves Auntie Pep. Uncle Steve and I talk about it all. the. time. Gotta be the cancer talk._

“Dad, what’s your face doing?”

“Peter, the doctors have told us over and over again that this surgery has a 95% chance of getting all the cancer. This talk of ‘when you’re gone’... it’s just not necessary,” Tony stroked his son’s hair and smiled at him. “What do we always say about Stark men?”

“That we’re made of iron,” Peter replied dutifully. “But, what if cancer corrodes iron?”

His voice was small on that last question and Peter felt tears rush to his eyes. _No_ , he berated himself. _Dad doesn’t need my tears._

He was shocked to look up into Tony’s eyes and see a matching set of those salty messengers. “Well, then I’ll just invent the best fucking cleaning product on the planet and we’ll show that corrosion who’s boss.”

* * *

It had all started about three years ago, during a routine visit to Uncle Steve and Uncle Bucky’s farm upstate. Peter had basically grown up there - spending summers running around and feeding the animals, and helping to deal with the crops. He’d worked the roadside stands and the farmer’s market and, as soon as he was old enough, he was looking forward to driving the tractor during the pumpkin picking festivals.

So it made no sense to anyone when a vibrant, seemingly healthy twelve-year-old started sleeping 8, 10, 12, 16 hours a day.

The uncles raised a flag with Tony, who had stayed in the city on that trip, and within days the Stark men were traipsing through every specialist in Manhattan. It was four weeks to the day that Bucky made the phone call that a doctor at Sloan Kettering found the tumor on Peter’s pituitary gland, and then about six hours after that he’d been scheduled for a biopsy.

The doctors were confident after the first round of chemo that they’d gotten it all and Peter was tentatively declared in remission.

Then he broke his ankle while horseback riding with Aunt Nat and the x-rays were disturbing and it all started all over again.

* * *

“I’m scared, Pep,” Tony whispered as they watched his son sleep across the hospital room. Peter’s pain had been particularly bad that day and the nurses gave him something strong to help him sleep. Visiting hours had ended about two hours ago, but the staff at Sloan Kettering had long ago realized Tony wasn’t going to be bound by them.

“Well,” Pepper replied calmly. “I think you should be.”

His eyes whipped to hers.

“It’s been you and him against the world for his entire life, Tony. I mean, I remember when Christine told you she was pregnant. You were over the moon and terrified all at the same time. You had, what, six panic attacks in his first year? The day she signed over parental rights, you told me once, was the best day of your life. He’s been your little buddy for fifteen years and now he’s getting brain surgery and you can’t help him.”

He fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt to have something to do with his hands. “I’ve read everything I could,” he whispered.

“You taught yourself nuclear physics overnight when we were in college to impress that guy from lab, so I’m sure you have,” Pepper chuckled tenderly. “But you know there’s a reason they don’t let surgeons operate on their family.”

“And this Strange guy, he’s the best, they say,” Tony conceded.

Pepper took his hands into hers, prying them away from the abused hem, and squeezed tight. “Anthony, listen to me. He’s in the best hands money can buy, your job is to love him well between now and then and there is no one better at loving Peter Stark than you.”

There were exactly five people Tony cried in front of. His childhood best friends Steve and Rhodey, his mentor Jarvis, and his son. They got his tears for sure, but the only person who got his sobs was Pepper.

He curled into her and muffled his wails with her stomach.

Pepper ran her hands through his hair and stared at the boy that was more of a son to her than she was willing to admit. _Oh, whoever is listening, these boys are everything. Just… everything to me. Please, I beg you, let us see Christmas together. It’s only 10 days from now. Just… please._

* * *

“So, they’re cutting open your skull?”

Peter nodded and then winced. Motion hurt.

MJ, of course, noticed immediately and gently placed her hand on his jaw. “No moving, idiot. They told you not to. So, they gotta shave your head?”

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled. The pain was so bad. “MJ?”

“Meds?”

“Yeah, can you ask the nurse when I can have them again?”

Instead, MJ checked the chart herself and consulted the wall clock. “About now, I think, let me go find someone.”

So many things about Peter’s life were weird and changeable and unpredictable. Nurses changed, as did his meds and the food he was allowed to eat on them. School became largely irrelevant the closer he got to surgery, and he had no idea how to talk to any of the people he had grown up with. He didn’t play sports or even know what teams were winning whatever league they were in because television was often painful to watch. There was almost nothing about being a teenager that was what he’d assumed it would be.

Except for MJ and Ned.

Like sentinels, they were. His dad had told him once that the pair worked out a schedule to make sure that Peter never went more than 18 hours without seeing one of them. Ned got really good describing comic book panels so he could read the stories, while MJ learned to read his charts so she could know what was happening.

He loved his dad, of course, and his various aunts and uncles who all made sure he never felt like he was alone, but there was something really, really special about his two best friends.

There was something even more special about MJ. Maybe, just maybe, if he survived this thing, he’d tell her.

* * *

“Dad?”

“Yeah, buddy?”

“I’m ready.”

Tony looked up at his son from his position next to the bed. “Good.”

“You ready?”

“Absolutely not.”

Peter chuckled, the sound rasping out of his throat. Surgery was in about six hours, and the pair knew the risks. Peter signed a DNR, begging his father not to let him continue life as a “vegetable”, and Tony made sure that at no point in time while Peter was in the operating room he would be alone.

“If he dies, I’ll kill them,” he calmly informed Steve.

“No, you won’t,” Steve replied at the exact same time as his husband said that he would help.

“Do you remember the first time we went to Disney World?” Tony changed the subject.

“Tell me about it,” Peter replied, keeping his eyes closed against even the dull light of the room. This had become routine in the last several weeks - telling stories from their lives. Sometimes, Peter would tell Tony about something MJ did once on a field trip before he got sick, others, Tony would tell Peter about something that happened before he was born.

Most of the time, though, they re-lived their memories.

“You were,” Tony smiled, “five and one half years old, as you informed literally everyone we met.”

Peter groaned quietly, but there was a smile on his face.

“You were obsessed, and I mean _obsessed,_ with Goofy and his ears. You had this hat that Uncle Bucky made you that basically gave you Goofy’s ears and you would not take it off. So when you finally met Goofy and he liked your ears, kid, you coulda hung the moon on your smile.”

“Is that the same trip where Auntie Pep brought her boyfriend?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. “Justin came later.”

“Oh you loved him,” Peter remarked.

“Good to know the tumor hasn’t eaten your ability to be a little shit,” Tony remarked and Peter laughed. That, of course, led to some coughing and they paused storytime to let Peter drink some water.

“Is there anyone Auntie Pep has dated that you liked?”

“They’ve all been fine,” Tony replied. “Just like how you were totally fine with MJ dating that football player.”

“Low blow, Dad.”

They settled in a rhythm for a few moments, trading insults and jabs like everything was normal. Finally, Tony noticed the time on the clock.

“Buddy, do you want me to do it or wait for the doctors?”

Peter’s eyes opened slowly and found his dad’s. “Are you sure?”

“I figure if I cry so hard that I fuck it up, you’re getting your skull cracked anyway,” Tony quipped as he got up and hit the call button for the nurse. One arrived and he and Tony got Peter onto a chair in the bathroom. Tony grabbed the equipment he had purchased that afternoon just for this moment and began to lovingly shave his son’s head.

* * *

“Mr. Stark?”

He turned briefly in the waiting room to see MJ hovering at the entrance to it. “Hi, Michelle.”

She bit her lip nervously, a move entirely uncharacteristic of her. “Mr. Rogers said I could come up?”

“Oh, my God, of course you can,” Tony affirmed the girl. He gestured to the empty couches of the private room he’d secured. “Make yourself comfortable. Pep just went on a food run - do you want tamales?”

MJ nodded and Tony sent Pep an updated order and then turned to address Peter’s … well, friend felt shallow. She really had become his loadstone over the past year.

“You holding up okay?”

She fiddled with her sleeves, and then shoved her hair behind her ears, and then swallowed loudly before answering. “You and Pete’s policy of honesty? Do I get it, too?”

Tony didn’t know much about MJ’s home life, but he knew enough to know that this question held some weight. “Of course.”

“Because they said it would be only 10 hours and we’re into 12 now and I’m really fucking scared,” she barreled on, not making eye contact.

“I am too, sweetheart,” Tony said softly, his eyes resting on her until she finally looked at him.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve thrown up about fifteen times,” Tony admitted. “That boy in there, he’s my whole world.”

“He’s… he’s mine too,” she whispered, and his heart just shattered with the honesty of adolescence. God, did he remember feeling like that.

“MJ, you look like you could use a hug,” Tony responded. “Can I give you one?”

She nodded - more of a head shuffle, really - and Tony moved to wrap the teenager in his arms. Which is how Pepper found them, some time later, when she returned with food - MJ curled into Tony’s side and his hand rubbing her back soothingly. MJ sat up with a start upon Pepper’s arrival - clearly ready to defend her actions, and then crumbled a bit when the look on Pepper’s face communicated there was no need. They all ate, and MJ declared she needed to take a walk and demanded that Tony call her the literal second the doctor had news.

“She’s wonderful,” Pepper smiled when MJ had left.

“You know,” Tony replied, “no one told me that parenting was going to come with bonus kids.”

Pepper laughed - a sound that never failed to lighten Tony’s soul - as the door creaked open and Bucky and Steve poked their heads in.

“Still no news?” Bucky asked as they crossed the room and settled near the pair. Steve settled himself next to Tony and pulled his friend into a hug. Within seconds, Tony settled himself against and across Steve, while Pepper rearranged herself so that Tony’s feet were in her lap. Bucky squished in next to Pepper - four fully grown adults on a couch not made for it, but who really cared.

Tony had always been a touch-focused person, Steve had explained to both Pepper and Bucky at different times. When they were kids, he was the one who needed to hold Steve’s hand when they were walking, always had to touch Steve in some way. They still called each other Pooh and Eeyore sometimes after a card Tony had found once where the animal pair were walking. Pooh reached out to touch Eeyore who asked if Pooh was okay. “Yes,” Pooh replied, “I just wanted to be sure of you.”

When Peter was diagnosed the first time, the three had been careful to touch Tony more than normal. There’d been hugs that lingered and extra kisses on the cheek. Pepper had been more reserved, but both Bucky and Steve knew why and didn’t push it.

When the second diagnosis came, they gave up all pretense and just cuddled Tony whenever they could. Steve and Bucky hired some extra help on the farm so they could spend more time at Peter and Tony’s Park Slope townhouse. Pepper - who also served as Tony’s business partner - took on as much as she could before hiring a terrifyingly competent PA for them both by the name of Okoye. The four of them had been a unit for most of Peter’s life, but the last two years had sewn their souls together.

For the record, Bucky and Steve’s conversations vis-a-vis Pepper and Tony only intensified and they planned to address it with both of them once Peter was in remission.

Which he was going to be.

He had to be.

“On a scale of one to dying by bees, where are we?” Steve whispered as he ran his hands through Tony’s hair.

“Being trampled by Black Friday shoppers,” Tony muttered back. “They said 10 hours.”

“I’ll go track down answers,” Bucky responded and extracted himself.

“Need to be strong when MJ gets back,” Tony continued.

“Since when is cuddling with your family a sign of weakness,” Steve asked quietly and Tony choked back a sob. He’d held it all together until this moment but he was just so scared.

“What if he dies?” Tony whispered.

“Then we’ll spread his ashes in the dog park like he asked,” Pepper answered pragmatically. They’d long ago passed the point of platitudes.

“And take a long vacation like he made us promise,” Steve continued.

“And then we’ll figure it out from there,” Tony whispered, echoing what his son had demanded of him so many times over the past few months.

“And we’ll figure it out from there, Shellhead,” Steve echoed, invoking his childhood nickname.

There was a shuffling noise by the door that drew the attention of the trio. The nurse who had been providing them updates all day quietly informed them that the surgery was over and Peter was in recovery.

“There are some concerns about his liver functions,” the nurse continued, “so Drs. Strange and Cho will be up to talk to you in the next few minutes.”

“What do you-” Tony started, but the nurse excused himself and they were left alone again.

“I’ll summon the troops,” Steve said as he pulled out his cellphone and opened WhatsApp.

“Make sure MJ is on there,” Tony contributed. He shifted himself back to a sitting position and ran his hands through his hair. “What do they mean his liver-”

Pepper cut him off. “We’ll know soon enough, Tony. Just breathe.”

_Just breathe._

* * *

Peter blinked a few times at Dr. Cho and then over at his dad and Auntie Pep. “Today? Really?”

She nodded. “Your liver functions are normal, everything else we were worried about has taken care of itself and your father has promised me that you’ll have a quiet Christmas.”

“Just the family,” Tony promised the doctor once again. “And we’ve already gotten all of his approved foods and his Uncle Steve has moved all the furniture around so he doesn’t have to navigate the stairs for a few days. We’re all set.”

The discharge paperwork was sorted and before Peter could even process the idea of being home for Christmas, he was bundled into the back of the car and trundled home. The ride was exhausting, but the faces waiting for him at the other end were wonderful.

Uncle Bucky, Uncle Steve, their golden retriever Sadie, and Uncle Rhodey were all scattered around the living room. _Elf_ was playing on the television and… MJ was there. He smiled as widely as his energy would handle it.

“We’ll do a full Christmas later, buddy, with all the food and everything” Uncle Steve said as Peter collapsed onto the couch between him and Uncle Rhodey. “Today is just about being together and you being as comfortable as possible.”

“Movies and fluffy blankets were requested,” Uncle Bucky clarified, “and so they shall be provided.”

Peter smiled lazily and whispered questions about the whereabouts of everyone else.

“We wanted to keep it quiet today and tomorrow,” his dad explained.

“Yeah, kiddo,” Uncle Rhodey smiled. “I’m just here for a few hours and then I’m heading back home. Carol and the kids and I will all be over once you’ve got some more energy.”

“Same for Nat and Maria,” Aunt Pepper offered, “and Bruce is going to fly back from India for whenever we decide to have full Christmas.”

“I still want it to be Christmas,” Peter sleepily protested.

“And it is, Petey pie,” his dad leaned over the back of the couch to kiss his forehead. “Because miracles happen at Christmas and we certainly got one this year.”

* * *

Stark family Christmas ended up happening in April, and Tony was really thankful for artificial trees. Stockings were hung, food was prepared, and they cranked the air conditioning as low as it would go to make it cold enough for everyone to wear cheesy Christmas sweaters. The house was full of their entire brood - all 27 people they called family - and Tony hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off his son. Peter. Alive and heading quickly into remission. What a joy.

Peter would always remember the day for three specific reasons. First, Uncle Bucky and Uncle Steve had gotten approved to be foster parents. Second, Uncle Bruce made it all the way back from India, which he so rarely did. But third, and most important, MJ had introduced herself to Uncle Bruce as Peter’s girlfriend.

_“That word? You said you hate that word,” Peter whispered._

_“Well,” MJ replied slowly, “I think if you can kick cancer’s ass, I can get over a word. Plus, now that you’re healthy, I gotta stake my claim. You’re gonna be a hot commodity, Former Cancer Kid.”_

_Peter rolled his eyes. “I’m still the gawky Stark kid, Meej. And I only want you, anyway.”_

_Pink dashed across MJ’s cheeks and she kissed him quickly. “Good, Stark, because I ain’t letting you go.”_

“You know, you still owe me a promise, Dad,” Peter said quietly when it was just the two of them in the living room.

“What?”

“Back in the hospital, you promised you’d ask Auntie Pep out.”

“I did no such thing!” Tony was indignant and the face he made at his son communicated that.

“You did, you said-”

“No,” the genius corrected. “You said you wanted me to do it after, and I quote, you were gone. I never agreed to it and you’re still here, so ergo, no promise.”

“So you’re a coward.”

“I resent that remark, Mr. Stark.”

“Then do something about it, Mr. Stark.”

“Maybe I will.”

“Maybe you should quickly because I heard Uncle Bucky and Uncle Steve making plans to talk to you about it.”

Tony groaned. “Good lord in her heaven, those two. You guys all know that if Pep wanted me, she woulda said something by now?”

“Humor the cancer kid, will ya?”

Tony’s rolled his lips over his teeth in a small smile. “But you aren’t one any more, kid. You’re my Christmas miracle.”

Peter blinked quickly a few times and nodded. “Then my reward for surviving is you not being a coward.”

“What am I gonna do with you?” Tony asked, laughter filling his voice.

“I dunno, Pops,” Peter smiled, “but maybe Auntie Pep can help you figure it out.”

Tony dramatically rolled his eyes and ruffled Peter’s hair. “Fine, you manipulator. Fine. I’ll talk to her this weekend.”

“No backing out,” Peter said.

“No backing out. I’ll talk to Pep this weekend, I promise.”

“Talk to me about what?” Pepper said from the doorway and Tony’s face went pale for a moment.

“Made of iron, Dad,” Peter whispered and Tony worried his lip, but nodded.

“Pepper, light of my life, let’s take a walk.”

And when the pair came back in an hour or so later with kiss swollen lips and slightly mussed hair, Peter was reminded that miracles happened outside of Christmas, too.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [Twitter](http://www.twitter.com/betheflame1) or [Tumblr](http://betheflame.tumblr.com) for more on these yahoos. You can also submit prompts and cajole me into writing faster - it usually works.


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